


Buzz Off

by idioticfangirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Poison, Sickfic, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioticfangirl/pseuds/idioticfangirl
Summary: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIA!Just a lil hurt/comfort fic I did for Mia's birthday, I hope you like it!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostbusterdwarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbusterdwarf/gifts).



It wasn't their first batte, nor their hardest. True, the giant wasps proved a problem, but once Thor had jovially knocked off the stings with his hammer, they were merely large bleeding flies, easy to pick off. Before long, the foe was vanquished, New York was safe for another three days or so, and the team could merrily pack up and go home, completely unscathed.

Once in the tower, they turned in for the night, adrenaline rush of battle crashing until they could barely keep their eyes open.

 

Clint had been asleep for about an hour and a half when a rustling noise in his room woke him. Instincts kicking in, he immediately leapt up, hand closed around a dagger previously concealed on his person before he had even registered that he was now awake. Cautiously, he peered into the gloom, debating the merits of getting JARVIS to turn on the lights and also wondering how anything could have gotten into his room undetected, when JARVIS spoke from above,

"Mr Parker appears to be in some distress, Master Clint."

"How many times have I told you, don't call me master!" Clint muttered, knowing full well that it would have no effect on what the AI called him, before suddenly realising the implications of what had been said.

"Pete?" he called out, receiving a low moan in reply. "You alright?" At the lack of a response, JARVIS turned on the lights, and Clint took in the sight before him with a high-pitched whistle. "You really don't look alright, you know?"

Peter moaned again, his face an ashy grey as he swayed and struggled to stay upright. With incredible difficulty, he managed to gain enough control over his tongue to slur, "Hurts."

"What does?" confused, Clint inched closer to where Peter was standing, prepared to catch him if necessary. Without any more preempt, Peter raised his shirt enough for Clint to see a creeping purple bruise on his ribcage, complete with a red indent that could only have been made by one of the wasps' stingers.

"Holy fuck," it was a struggle to keep his voice down, but Clint doubted Peter would appreciate being yelled at right now, "why didn't you tell anyone?"

Peter shrugged. "Felt alright."

"And it doesn't anymore?"

Peter never got the chance to reply, as before he could even begin to think of forming the words his eyes rolled back, legs crumpling as he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Clint rushed over, getting there just in time to prevent him hitting his head and adding a concussion to his growing list of injuries. He took one look at the injured teenager, head cradled in his arms, and ordered JARVIS,

"Get Steve."

 

By the time Steve had been made aware of the severity of the situation, Clint had managed to wrestly Peter into his arms and carry him, bridal style, back to Peter's own bed. This was where Steve found them, Peter curled up under the covers while Clint sat on the bed next to him and attempted to disentangle Peter's arms from his own.

"What happened?" Even at 3am, Steve still had the ability to sound exactly like the leader he was, and Clint fought the impulse to stand to attention. 

"Wasp sting," he replied shortly, brushing stray hair from Peter's face, "didn't affect him 'til now."

"Hell," Steve muttered, shaking his head, "why didn't he tell us?" Before Clint could respond, Steve had settled on the bed and was gently rubbing Peter's back. "You can go back to sleep," he informed Clint, "I've got this."

Clint glanced at Peter, who was wincing even in his fitful sleep, and shook his head. "I'll help."

The smile that Steve threw Clint's way was genuinely grateful as he said, "Thanks."

 

For twenty minutes, all seemed calm. Peter was sleeping, albeit in fits of nightmares and whimpering, and the two thought that maybe they could just ride this out.

Of course, that was when it went to shit for the second time. 

"Fuck, Cap, feel his pulse," Clint whispered harshly, his own hand closed around Peter's wrist. JARVIS jumped in easily, smooth voice announcing,

"Mr Parker has a pulse rate of 106 beats per minute. This is called tachycardia," it may have been Clint's imagination, but he sounded almost worried.

"Should we do something about it?" Steve asked, althought whether that was directed to Clint, JARVIS, or some ethereal being who knew what the hell to do about mutant wasp stings, Clint could not tell. He was saved the trouble of answering, not that he had anything to say, by Peter waking up.

"What's going on?" he murmured, voice thick with sleep and pain, "Why are -" he broke off in a grimace, curling in on himself to ease the pain radiating from his side. 

"Peter," Steve's voice was gentle but firm. "Peter, you got stung by one of the wasps." Peter nodded. "You should've told us, kid," he continued, "you could've told any of us."

"I didn't wanna bother you."

Both Clint and Steve inhaled sharply, and one look at Steve's face let Clint know that he was feeling the same panicked anger. Steve took a few more breaths, trying to get it under control, but Clint could not let this slide.

"Bother us?" he repeated incredulously, "Bother us? Pete, it's fine if you get injured. We've all done it so many times! What's not okay is," he paused to run his hands through his hair, "not telling us until you're at the point of collapsing! Jesus Christ, Peter, do you know how much you scared me? I thought you were going to die!"

"Sorry," was all that Peter could sheepishly say, and Clint sighed, anger leeching away until it was just the worry left over. Peter shivered, looking up at Steve with pleading eyes, and Steve smiled softly. "I'm cold," he whined.

Steve laid a hand on Peter's forehead, eyes growing wide with alarm as he exclaimed, "You're burning up!" 

Peter held out a hand to the two, begging, "Come here! Keep me warm, please?"

Sighing, Clint and Steve laid down next to Peter, sandwiching him between their bodies in an attempt to share the heat.

 

So it was that, when Peter awoke a few hours later, almost completely healed, Captain America and Hawkeye were asleep with him, hugging him and making sure that he was alright. He settled back down to sleep away the rest of the poison, smiling blissfully as he slipped into a peaceful, safe sleep.


End file.
